


Frost

by dragonspell



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 01:26:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonspell/pseuds/dragonspell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen's been in nearly every night, sitting in different seats, trying all the drafts on tap, getting used to the collection of regulars and finding out what kind of outliers the bar has drawn in. Jared is definitely an outlier. There's something about Jared that draws Jensen in, that makes him want to keep on looking—a thought that if he were to look away that Jared might melt like snow in the summertime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ashtraythief](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashtraythief/gifts).



The bar is a little rundown, looking like it hasn't been renovated since the 1970s, with little rips in the seats and permanent depressions on the bar stools from where thousands of people have sat in the exact same spot, but it's fairly clean and obviously well loved. The wooden counter gleams in the low light and the shot glasses sparkle on the wall. The old mirror reflects back the dim light of the overhead lights, causing everything to look just a little bit surreal. In the back, an old jukebox has been playing a nonstop mix of country, obviously a favorite genre of the locals, but Jensen stopped noticing the moment that Jared sat down beside him.

The bar's off in the middle of nowhere, located on the crossroads of what the locals like to call a town but what Jensen more thinks of as a small collection of buildings. There's a bar, a fire station, a general store with an attached gas station and post office and, inexplicably, an art gallery. Some more houses sit a ways off but Jensen still can't bring himself to call it a town. It is the smallness of it, though, the sparseness of people, that brought Jensen here in the first place. He’s a little tired of people right now. 

He’d bought a house a few miles back, deep in the woods, as a retreat of sorts, a place to retire to when the bullshit of the city just gets too deep. Right now, the only deep thing that Jensen has to wade through is snow and he'll gladly take it. The people in town, what few there are of them, have been nothing but welcoming, not caring that he’s a stranger or that he likes to keep to himself often times.

Jensen needs the recharge, needs to be free of society for awhile. He’s feeling burnt out, used, scraped raw and tossed aside and it’s nice to meet some people who genuinely want nothing from him in return for their smiles. It restores a little part of his soul that he’d thought had been sucked out by the cold cynical reality of his life. It makes him genuinely care about these people that he’s only know for a little bit, people that he might never have met if he hadn’t come to town. And then there's Jared.

Jensen's only been in town a week or so, off the grid and hiding from life in general and his editor in particular, but he's found that the bar pulls people from miles around. One old man had told him that it is, despite its appearance, the only really respectable place for three counties. For someone just looking to observe life for awhile, experience things as they come, and not have to worry about what it’s going to cost him, the place is a dream come true. There’s always just enough people to not feel alone in the world but never too much to seem overwhelming. They’re also people that he owes nothing and whom owe him nothing; people that he will most likely never see again in his life and that is freeing. Jensen's been in nearly every night, sitting in different seats, trying all the drafts on tap, getting used to the collection of regulars and finding out what kind of outliers the bar has drawn in. Jared is definitely an outlier.

For one thing, Jensen can't take his eyes off the man. There's something about Jared that draws Jensen in, that makes him want to keep on looking—a thought that if he were to look away that Jared might melt like snow in the summertime. Jared's eyes are bright and warm, and Jensen likes how they crinkle when Jared smiles, which is just about all the time. Jared never seems to stop laughing or smiling. Jensen wants to take that as a sign that Jared's enjoying the company as much as Jensen is. When Jensen had shown up tonight, he’d been thinking that he would just sit on the far stool, away from everyone else and just exist for a bit. He hadn’t been looking for company, but he wasn’t going to say no to it, either—especially from someone that was easy on the eyes and laidback enough not to try and force anything. If this were the city, Jensen would have expected no less than six cheesy pick up lines and two invitations to a back alley by now. Jared, however, even though he had deliberately picked Jensen out and sat down next to him, seems content to just sit and talk. Jensen can appreciate that.

Jensen wonders if Jared's a farmer or one of the guys from the back country because he's tanned and built, with broad shoulders and arms that make Jensen think all sorts of things that he shouldn't when he's in public. He wears his jeans loose, nearly falling off hips, but his shirt is tight, the plaid button down stretching across his chest, and the sleeves just barely give him enough room when he leans forward and flexes. He talks about the area and the people and the snow, telling Jensen stories that Jensen's mind latches on to and files away for later. Jensen knows that he'll be writing about this when he musters up the strength to go back to his regular life.

Jared laughs again and his long fingers pick up his glass of whiskey and bring it back up to his lips. Jensen watches the motion and then reaches for his own glass. He's glad that he came in tonight and he’s been considering breaking his own self-imposed rules for the past hour or so. When Jensen had arrived at his backwoods cabin, he’d told himself that he wasn’t going to form any connections. No strings, he’d said, because strings lead to broken hearts. Jared's heavy Carhartt is hanging up in the corner, though, and Jensen is hoping that he can convince Jared to put it on soon. They've only been sitting here for a few hours, but Jared's interested. Jensen can see it in the way that he looks at Jensen, his eyes sometimes traveling lazily down Jensen's body before he smiles wide, and how he keeps reaching over to touch his fingers against Jensen's wrist--nothing overt, but Jensen would have to be blind to miss it. As for Jensen, he hasn't had anybody since Sean moved out months ago. He's ready.

"Hey," Jensen says after awhile. He drains the rest of his beer, using it to gain a little courage, and puts a smile on his face. "Would you like to get out of here?"

Jared pauses in mid-drink. “What?” he says, like he hadn't quite heard what Jensen had asked—or maybe he couldn't believe that Jensen had asked it.

Jensen mentally runs through the previous few hours. He's sure that he hasn't misread the signs. Jared was—is—interested. “Do you want to go back to my place?” Jensen asks, rephrasing the question. No strings, but some fun wouldn’t hurt anyone. “For a bit?” He holds his breath, hoping for an answer—and then Jared smiles.

“Yeah,” Jared says. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Though he’s trying to play it cool, Jensen’s off the stool in a flash. He forces himself to slow down, to not look so pathetically excited as he is, but his heart is pounding in his chest, forming a louder baseline than the jukebox, and his palms are starting to sweat. Really, the only thing that’s keeping him together are the small signs that Jared’s feeling just as nervous as he is. Jared keeps glancing at him, like he’s not quite sure that Jensen’s real and every now and then his brilliant smile slips in a fit of nerves.

A blast of winter air greets them at the door, nearly pushing them back inside with a flurry of snowflakes and cold before it subsides into nothingness. Jensen laughs and hunches his shoulders to get his coat collar up around his ears. “Cold,” he says and Jared nods, tugging his coat closer around his torso. Jared steps up close to Jensen and Jensen watches the warm puffs of air as Jared exhales. He shivers but it’s not from the cold.

There are four vehicles in the bar’s lighted parking lot and Jared doesn’t make a move to any of them. Jensen slides his eyes from his own black truck to the two SUVs and the red Dodge Ram, wondering which one is Jared’s.

“I, uh…” The wind kicks up again, just for a moment, and they both hunch their shoulders. “I don’t have a car,” Jared says, sounding embarrassed. He’s looking at the ground rather than at Jensen. “A friend dropped me off. He, uh, won’t be back for a few more hours.” Jared finally meets Jensen’s eyes because Jensen’s too busy considering the possibility of having Jared all to himself for the night to reply. “But I can tell him not to bother…”

It’s been a long time since Jensen’s spent the night with anyone. He and Sean had been done long before Sean had actually left, sleeping in different rooms for months. Spending the night, though, can mean complications. It can mean strings, obligations, relationships, heartbreak—it can also mean nothing and that he’s over thinking this. Not everyone is his ex-boyfriend. Jensen spends a moment studying Jared’s nervous smile and thinks that, yeah, he’s okay with this. “You can ride with me.”

They make a quick stop at the general store under the pretense of getting more beer and the idea that Jared’s from the backwoods cements in Jensen’s head. Jared’s looking around like he’s not quite sure where everything is, but, then again, so’s Jensen. They bumble around the store together, shoulders just barely brushing, and the cashier doesn’t say a word when Jensen quietly slips a package of condoms onto the belt in between the beer and the chips. Brett’s got a way of minding his own business about these sorts of things. So do most people in town. It’s like they figure that if you’re brave enough, crazy enough to live out here in the dead of winter, they you can do whatever the hell you want.

Jared seems to fill up Jensen’s truck when he slides in and Jensen’s heart pounds in his ears. The only thing keeping him in his seat right now and out of Jared’s is the knowledge that in ten minutes, a locked door and a bed will be within easy reach. Jensen wants to slide over and kiss his way down Jared’s face, wrap his hands around Jared’s biceps, straddle a leg and ride until he comes in his pants like a teenager. He keeps both hands on the wheel and his eyes on the road.

With the snow and the wind, it takes longer to get to his house than Jensen would have liked and when he pulls the truck into the driveway, his courage deserts him for a minute. He parks and stares out the windshield at the back wall of his garage, his hands still clenched on the steering wheel, and wonders what the hell he thinks he’s doing. Then he glances over at Jared again and throws caution to the cold, icy wind. “We’re here,” he says and pulls the keys out of the ignition.

Jared nods, another smile touching his mouth, and Jensen can’t help but lean over and kiss him. It’s soft and tentative and full of promise like most first kisses. Jensen likes it enough to try it again. This one’s a little bolder, the next one bolder still, until one of them gets the idea to use a little tongue and Jared's teeth nip at Jensen’s bottom lip. A thrill runs down Jensen’s spine and he presses himself closer, wanting more and more. He wants to take everything that Jared is willing to give him. One of his hands buries in Jared’s hair while the other braces against the dash and Jared’s big fingers explore Jensen’s face and neck, shoulders and chest.

They break apart, letting a few inches of space exist between them again. Jensen’s panting, his heart is racing, and his jeans are starting to feel too tight. The truck windows are partially steamed up. “Inside?” Jared asks. Jensen nods as he fumbles for the door. He tumbles out of the truck, nearly going to the cement floor before he catches himself. Jared shoots him a concerned glance before they share a sheepish smile and race for the door.

Jared grabs him when they’re just barely inside and flattens him to the wall. Their limbs tangle, each working to strip the other and getting in each other’s way because of it. Jensen tries to pull off Jared’s coat while shrugging off his own and Jared’s already pulling at Jensen’s shirt, yanking it up to get his hands underneath. Jensen sucks in a quick breath and tenses his stomach as Jared’s cold fingers touch his bare skin. The Carhartt sags against Jared’s arms, Jensen’s hands no longer interested in holding it, and Jared spares a moment to drop his arms and let it drop to the floor. It’s kicked aside and forgotten, the same as Jensen’s coat and outer shirt and the one boot he can manage to toe off.

They bump into the kitchen counter, the corner digging into Jensen’s side. It hurts, but it’s a distant ache, drowned in the haze of arousal that fogs Jensen’s brain. Jensen pushes Jared back, steering him out of the kitchen and down the hall. Jared walks blindly backward, either trusting Jensen not to ram him into a wall or too busy with Jensen’s neck to care. Jensen moans as Jared nips and sucks his way down to Jensen’s collarbone.

Buttons pop off Jared’s tight shirt when Jensen grips it with both hands. They clatter to the floor, bringing back a momentary sense of reality. “Fuck,” Jared mutters, stepping back, as Jensen feels his face start to flame. Jared’s overshirt is hanging off of him, held together by one button at the bottom, revealing a white tee.

“Sorry,” Jensen says. Jared shakes his head and pulls both shirts off with a few rough tugs.

“Don’t be,” he replies before his mouth covers Jensen’s, his tongue slipping between Jensen’s lips. Jensen grips Jared’s shoulders, his fingers digging into the soft skin and hard muscle, before moving his hands downward, across the hard planes of Jared’s back. Jensen bucks his hips, grinding himself against Jared and Jared groans in his ear, large hands moving down to cup Jensen’s ass, encouraging to grind harder.

Jensen leans up against the door jamb of the bedroom with one of Jared’s thighs between his own. The feeling of Jared so warm and solid against him is starting to run off with him completely. A hand wiggles between their joined hips to cup Jensen and Jensen let his head drop back against the wooden frame. His legs are starting to tremble. “Bed,” he says, giving Jared a little push in the right direction.

Jared pulls him along, tugging him the few feet to the mattress. He falls onto the bed and Jensen’s knees finally give out, sending Jensen down on top of him. Jared’s hands are everywhere, pushing up underneath the shirt that Jensen hasn’t managed to lose yet, tugging on Jensen’s belt, running up and down Jensen’s jean-clad thighs, grabbing at Jensen’s crotch. Jensen wants to return the favor but first things first: he sits up just long enough to pull his shirt off and undo his belt so that he can slide his jeans past his hips. Jared grins in approval and his hands finally dip into Jensen’s underwear.

“Oh, fuck...” Jensen bows his head, resting it against Jared’s shoulder as Jared wraps his hand around Jensen’s hard cock and pumps. It’s already wet down there and the warm friction is threatening to push him over the edge. “Fuck.” Jensen grabs Jared’s wrist, but he doesn’t know if it’s to make Jared stop or to make him speed up. Jared decides to do the latter. With a moan, Jensen buries his face in the crook of Jared’s neck and busies his mouth against Jared’s skin. It feels good to lick and suck and it’s the thought of what else he could do with his mouth coupled with Jared’s hand that finishes him off. He comes, biting down on Jared’s skin, hips bucking into Jared’s grip as he makes a mess of his underwear.

Jared gives him a few more pumps and then lets him go, seemingly content to just lie underneath Jensen as Jensen struggles to put himself back together. A blush stains Jensen cheeks and he’s grateful that Jared still can’t see his face because, dear Lord, that had been way too quick. He’s too old for this kind of shit and for fuck’s sake, he’s still in his jeans. “Sorry,” he says.

“Don’t be.” They’re starting to form a pattern tonight. Jensen sits up and looks down at Jared who smiles up at him. “I liked it.”

Jensen lets the comment pass, unsure how to respond and focused on other things anyway. Jared looks downright ravished. His hair is a mess, all mussed up and tangled from where Jensen had gripped it and his lips are kiss-bruised. There’s a hickey forming right beneath his jaw that Jensen must have put there when he’d come. Jensen lets his eyes travel downward, across Jared’s chest to where a line of hair disappears beneath his jeans. Jared looks as if someone had sculpted him, like an artist’s hand had lovingly chiseled out each hard line and flat plane. Jensen dares to let his eyes wander a little lower and his eyebrows raise. Well, that is just ridiculous, he thinks. Either it’s a trick of the low light of the moon or Jared’s got one hell of a good reason to wear his pants so loose. Mysteries like that, Jensen decides, deserve to be investigated.

He dips his fingers beneath Jared’s waistband, watching as Jared bites his lip and closes his eyes. It’s a good look for him, Jensen decides. He dares a little more, undoing the snap and pushing down the zipper to get at the black boxer briefs underneath, and he realizes that it definitely wasn’t a trick of the light. It’s all Jared. Jensen lowers his head and runs his mouth lightly over Jared’s cloth covered erection, feeling a small thrill when Jared gasps and rolls his hips upward. It’s a heady feeling to have a guy under your complete control; over the years, Jensen’s been hard pressed to find something that he likes doing more than giving blowjobs.

He peels down Jared’s underwear, moving it just enough to free his large cock and tucking the waistband under his balls. Damn, Jensen thinks, measuring it against his hand. He wraps his fingers around the base and gives the head an experimental lick. Jared does not disappoint him.

Jared’s hands twist in the sheets as he spreads his legs and pushes upward. Jensen licks him again, this time taking longer, and Jared's breath turns harsh. He decides to stop teasing them both and puts his mouth over the tip, giving it a little suction. It feels good to have something in his mouth. He goes down as far as he's able, gags, and comes back up to devote more attention to the head, his tongue flicking against the underside. He lets himself get lost in the sensation, sucking and licking, as Jared alternates between clenching the sheets and Jensen's shoulder. Every now and then, he diverts his hand to Jensen's head, cupping gently in a way that Jensen likes. Jensen tightens up his hand and strokes up and down.

He keeps at it until Jared's gentle cupping of his head turns into an insistent pulling on his hair and Jared starts to babble. “Um, I'm—ah—Jensen, ready...” Jensen pulls off but keeps his hand tight. Jared’s eyes snap open before squeezing shut and he gives up on control, bucking his hips upward to fuck Jensen’s hand. Jensen drinks it in, wanting to remember it exactly. A groan turns into a whine and then Jared’s coming, pulsing in Jensen’s hand and splattering come across Jared’s torso. Jensen smiles.

A shudder runs through Jared’s body, his left leg jerking at the end before he sits up, come rolling down his skin, and pulls Jensen in for a rough, demanding kiss. Jensen happily surrenders, giving up his mouth as his hand curls against Jared’s shoulder.

When they break, they’re both panting, and when Jared flops back against the bed, Jensen follows him down. Jensen hadn’t been looking for anything but a drink tonight, but he’s happy that he’s here.

* * *

There’s snow blowing across Jensen’s skin, but for some reason, it’s not cold. He feels comforted, warm. He holds up his hand and catches an intricate snowflake on a fingertip. He examines it. In the warmth of his hand, it should melt, but it doesn’t. It stays perfect and beautiful as it’s joined by more and more, until a thin layer forms over his skin like a protective coating. Puzzled, Jensen brushes them off and then gasps as he realizes that his skin isn’t really his skin at all—that it’s been replaced by intricate swirls of frost, curling, swirling white tattoos that cover him from head to foot. He should be freezing, he should be dead, but yet, he’s warm.

Jensen slowly opens his eyes, looking around the dark room. He brings his hand up to his face, just to check, but he only finds his normal skin. He doesn’t know if he feels relieved or disappointed. It had been a weird dream. A silly dream. But he’d felt...

Loved.

What time he’d fallen asleep, Jensen doesn’t know. After cleaning up and retrieving the bags from the truck, he’d been lulled to sleep by the gentle rise and fall of Jared’s chest. Speaking of which, Jensen reaches across the bed to the tangle of sheets next to him. They’re still warm but empty and a small knot of what disturbingly feels like disappointment curls inside of him before the rational side of his brain intervenes. Jared didn’t have a ride and Jensen’s closest neighbor is miles away. Unless he’d decided that he was part Yeti and walked back to town, Jared is still probably in the house. Besides, no strings, remember? Jensen sits up, the blankets pooling in his lap, and tries to regain his resolve. It had been so easier just a week or so ago. 

Standing with his fingers pressed against the frost covered window in the corner, Jared stares out at the freshly fallen snow. In the pale light of the moon, he looks almost ethereal, like an ice sculpture brought to life; he glows. Whorls of frost spin out from where Jared’s fingers are touching the glass and Jensen has to blink because it almost looks as if Jared’s skin is frosted over as well. When he looks again, though, Jared’s skin is the same as it was in the bar and Jared’s looking at him. Silly dream. “Hi,” Jared says, softly.

“Hi.”

“Did I wake you up?”

Jensen shakes his head. “No, I was just...” he pauses, wondering what he should say. That he was worried that the guy he’d picked up at the bar a few hours ago had decided to leave? That he was afraid that he was alone again? He shouldn’t be concerned about that. Being alone should be fine, he told himself, but he knew he was lying the moment that he thought it. _Clingy_ is what Sean had called him, throwing it out like an insult. _Overly-invested. Come on, Jensen, it’s not like we had a relationship or anything._ “Cold,” he finishes. It’s true enough.

Jared smiles, his eyes crinkling again in the way that makes Jensen’s stomach do flips. “I could help with that,” he says, walking back to the bed.

That’s true, too.

When Jared touches him, a part of Jensen expects the touch to be cold like frost while another part expects it to feel like the dream. It’s reassuringly normal, warm and soft, and Jensen leans into it. Jared crawls into bed beside him, pulling the blankets up around them, and they spent another few hours exploring—no pressure, no judgment.

* * *

When Jensen wakes again, dawn is creeping through the windows, spilling light across the floor. Jensen yawns, feeling warm and content in his snug cocoon of blankets. Jared’s warm body is still next to him and Jensen smiles to himself. For the first time in a long time, he feels ready to greet the day. It’s wonderful, actually.

Jared sits up, going from sleeping to wakefulness in a matter of seconds, and Jensen quirks an eyebrow. He’d envy such an early bird behavior if he didn’t know that sleeping in was so enjoyable. “It’s morning,” Jared says.

Jensen nods. “Um, yeah,” he replies and glances over at his bedside clock. “Seven thirty.”

“I have to go.” Jared whips the sheets back and gets to his feet, naked and unashamed. Jensen lets his eyes rake Jared up and down because as long as the man is putting it out there, there’s no harm in looking. In the dawn light, Jared looks darker—tanned. His longish hair is falling into his eyes and Jensen resists an urge to brush it back.

It’s not until Jared is searching the floor for his discarded clothes that Jensen finally understands what Jared had said. “Oh. I’ll, uh...” He glances at the floor for his own clothes. “I can drive you.”

Jared finally looks at him, his eyes darker than Jensen remembers. “You don’t have to.”

“Dude,” Jensen says, sitting up. “You don’t have a car.” He shivers as the chill of the room touches him. He must have turned down the thermostat last night, but he doesn’t remember doing so.

Jared glances out the window. They’re completely coated, looking like church windows awaiting color. “It doesn’t matter.”

Jensen barks a laugh. “What? It’s, like below zero out there. You think you’re going to walk?”

Jared sits back down on the bed and pauses for a long while. “I don’t want to go,” he says quietly and Jensen feels a blossom of warmth.

Jensen smiles and lifts the covers up invitingly. “You don’t have to.” Jensen’s okay with staying in bed with Jared for just a little longer. He knows that he can’t keep the man but a few extra hours wouldn’t hurt anyone.

Jared glances at the blankets and then at Jensen. For a moment, his eyes seem pale blue, but then they’re back to being green. Jensen blinks, thinking that it must be a trick of the light and Jared’s hazel eyes. “If you tell me to stay, I can.” Jensen’s smile falters at Jared’s earnest tone. “Tell me to stay.”

He makes it sound much more serious that it should, like if he were to walk out the door, Jensen might never see him again, like it’s important for Jensen to have him stay. Jensen shrugs, feeling uncomfortable. “You can stay if you want.”

“No,” Jared says, shaking his head, “it’s what do _you_ want.”

Jensen licks his lips, thinking that somewhere, they went beyond the original conversation, that there are levels to this exchange that he’s just not understanding. It’s fast and it’s sudden and it’s definitely against the rules that Jensen set for himself—but he wants more. “I want you to stay.”

Jared smiles, his seriousness forgotten, and climbs back into bed with Jensen. “Then I’ll stay,” he says and Jensen has the feeling that he means for longer than just the morning.

For some reason, Jensen is okay with this. His heart overrules his brain. Strings lead to broken hearts but having no strings leaves you cold. Jensen thinks that he would rather be curled against Jared’s warmth.

Jared wraps his arms around Jensen again and Jensen lets himself fall back asleep. He dreams of white frost and slick ice but nowhere is it cold. It’s warm and inviting and he wants it to stay—so it does.


End file.
